


Chaos in the Calm

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Calming exercises, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, References to panic disorders, Slow Dancing, Tartarus mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23879218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: It's Sally and Paul's wedding, and Percy and Annabeth slow dance. But it doesn't have the effect one would expect.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	Chaos in the Calm

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "slow dance" from anonymous and hufflepuff--queen on tumblr. Thank you!

Percy takes Annabeth’s hand and pulls her toward him gently. “This okay?” he asks. She’s surprised he noticed the way she was looking all over the room. Somehow the size of the room is both too big and too small, making her feel alone and crushed at the same time.

Annabeth nods, though, because as long as she’s with Percy she’ll be okay. Probably.

Sally looks radiant, her gown a silky cream with a sage green sash. It matches her personality perfectly, soft and flowing without a lot of flash. It’s clean, smooth, and simple. Annabeth doesn’t know much about fashion, but she knows Sally looks great and would even if she was wearing a plastic bag. It’s all about the smile, she thinks.

They hold onto each other more than slow dance, their arms linked in a way that reminds Annabeth of falling through to Tartarus, but she forces the memory back by focusing on the feelings of that moment. The tiny bit of Percy’s scruff brushing against her forehead. The smell of the flowers and Percy’s cologne. The slight pinch of her strapless bra. The cold metal of the zipper on her dress against her back. The sound of Flaws by Bastille, the song that Percy particularly requested, echoing in her ears. The prickling of tears behind her eyes.

She wants to force it back, but there was a while when she couldn’t cry, couldn’t feel. So she lets the light tears brush down her cheeks, trailing lightly down her cheeks. She’s glad she didn’t put on anything other than lipstick and mascara. Well, by she, she means Sally’s friend, Pearl. “Darling, you look well perfect without anything,” Pearl had said in a ringing accent that reminded Annabeth of a vacation she’d taken to Huntsville with her father’s family. “A little pop on those eyes and a red lip and you’ll be lookin’ like magic.”

Annabeth lets herself smile, head on Percy’s shoulder.

“You okay, love?” he asks. His voice is something else she can focus on. Quiet, but a little hoarse from practicing his best man speech for days on end. Careful, because he knows how hard this is for her. Guarded, because it’s hard for him, too.

“I’m okay,” she replies when she knows it’s an honest answer. His arms tighten slightly around her.

“Can I tell you something?” he says, that same soothing sound.

She doesn’t need to do more than nod. Percy can feel it.

“This is making me think of Tartarus,” he mumbles. “You know, falling, holding onto each other, big space.”

“Oh, gods, me too,” Annabeth says, and she pulls away. In a moment, the reality rushes back. Soft pastels, gentle lights, glowing smiles. The song switches to something by Lady Gaga, something she missed during her search for Percy if she had to guess, poppy and exciting, and the entire mood shifts.

“I don’t think I like slow dancing,” he says, brow furrowed. “At least, not yet.”

She relaxes, because she forgets that, even when she thinks it’s impossible, they’re always so in tune. “I think I agree.” She grins.

With the faster music, the hours of gleeful laughter, the way everyone’s started kicking off their heels and unbuttoning the suit jackets, Annabeth starts to breathe. She’s enjoying herself.

“You know what this is making me think of now?” she asks, breathless after the disaster of a dance battle she, Percy, Pearl, Grover, and Sally competed in. She feels like she’s pink and mussed, the lipstick gone against a slice of cake and few stolen kisses from Percy, and she knows her hair is out of that nice ponytail Pearl had managed to wrangle it into.

“What?” Percy asks. His eyes are shining, and –

“You have frosting in your hair,” Annabeth says, reaching out to brush it out of the way. It sticks. She'll have to get at that later. 

“That’s what you’re thinking of?” he asks, not judgmentally, but a genuine question.

“Oh, no,” Annabeth says. “What – right,” she smiles at him. “I don’t know. I was kind of thinking I want a dance battle at our…” She trails off. “When we. After you. Or I.”

His smile widens. “Yeah, me too,” he says. “I want a dance battle at ours, too.”


End file.
